


Lemmings

by TVateMyBrain (datsunblue)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, The Way To Get Over A Guy, Urges, you fill in the blanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datsunblue/pseuds/TVateMyBrain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Lemmings don't throw themselves off cliffs.<br/>That doesn't nessecarily mean they don't want to.</p><p> </p><p>*Could possibly be the same universe as "The Way To Get Over A Guy"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lemmings

* * * * *

It wasn't immediately obvious to her why she couldn't stop staring. This guy was kind of a dick. But he was compelling. Something about his enthusiasm was infectious, dangerous. It put her senses on edge, ready for fight or flight.

He used his hands a lot, gestures with drink and smoke. Love it, hate it, there was no middle ground. Twitchy. He didn't sit still. Like a puzzle, her mind kept ticking over him, something not quite right.

From her seat she watched him. Quiet. Like a rabbit? Or like a python? Not sure yet if she was predator or victim.

“Another break-up. Don't ask about her...” She hears someone refer to him, nodding in his direction.

The party swirls slowly around her. Conversations come and go. Drinks drain and refill. She listens more than she speaks.

Weeks later, she encounters him again, sober this time. The start of the evening. But it comes over her all the same, this edgy feeling. Like wanting to jump off a cliff. To run. To just say fuck everything. Smash something.

Suddenly, the smoke clears. She sees. 

It is herself she sees reflected in him. That part of her that runs screaming towards self destruction. The grand urge to fuck everything up. To start again. And again. And again. To stop the expectations. Stop being nice. Stop pretending to be normal. To scream and bleed and howl at the moon. The kind of things that get you locked up.

Across the room, he looks up, catches her eye. 

She sees her own feelings broadcast on his features. Recognition at some level far below the social niceties, and she knows she should stay far far away from him, because if they ever get close, it won't be just fireworks. It will be whole worlds smashing and grinding themselves to pieces. She imagines the sex would be fantastic. And disastrous. Possibly even deadly. 

Hello Mr Self Destruct.


End file.
